Jack
by knuckleslice
Summary: When Mrs Lovett finds five year old Jack sleeping in the gutters, she can't help but take him in. But what happens when Sweeney can't handle having a child around.
1. Chapter 1

He lay among the dirt, his only friends were the disease-ridden rats. His hair a dark shade of copper with small stubs of rubble scattered across the roots. His eyes, once an azure blue, rich with childish laughter and life, now were smudged a faded greyish purple around the rim, they drooped at the edges, the whites tinted with bloodshot veins. A violet bruise splattered across his left cheek and scars sketched across his knuckles. Wearing nothing but a faded-out white collared shirt and grey tattered trousers.

His mother had neglected him. She couldn't cope with a child, couldn't take the hassle. She wasn't fit to be a mother, even she knew that. She would drink, take funny things from a bottle, sing...loudly. She would burst out the front door, hair tousled and stained with sweat. She'd belt out at the top of her voice, singing horrifically out of tune, the notes cracking at the strain against her throat. Bottles would be thrown at the wall, annoyed neighbours shouting at her to shut up, go back inside, let them get some shut eye.

It had been a week since he had escaped from the kitchen window. He hadn't eaten much, not much at all. He drank from the water that came through the gutter. At the age of five, the relevance of germs and whatnot don't come across as important. God knows what it was doing to his stomach. Lying on his back, he rubbed his eyes with his fists scrunched into knots. A small grey rat scurried along the sewer path but the boy caught it just in time before it continued down into the sewer.

"Hello li'il mousey. I'm Jack," He clasped his small chubby fingers tight around the rat and laid it in his left palm, poking it's nose with his finger, "Charlie. Do you like that name? I do. You're my friend now, and you can sleep in my hat here."

Jack reached down into his pocket and pulled out a flat brown cap and tucked the small rat inside.

"Na'night, Charlie."

The little boy held the cap to his chest and lay against the wall, his head resting on a crate. He glared up at the night sky in awe, counting the stars, so many.

"1,2, …..3, 4, 5... wot comes after five, Charlie?"

He stares down at the rat, it's small beady black eyes looked up helpless. Jack shook his head and laid back down on the crate, his eyes drifting shut at the sound of footsteps.

"Cor blimey luv, whataya doin' down there? Catch a cold yer will!"

Jack's eyes flickered up slowly before closing again. The footsteps drew closer and he took a peep from beneath his eyelids. The person who had spoke to him was throwing a sack into one of the crates behind him.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, attempting to fake sleep so the woman would leave. Instead, she tucked her hands beneath his armpits and lifted him up.

"Argh! Charlie!" Jack whaled his arms around and reached his arm back towards the ground where his cap lay.

"Charlie? Oh heavens, there's a rat in yer hat! C'mere you lil blighter," The woman started stamping around.

"Don't hurt him, ma'am! He's my friend."

"Friend? It's a rat, luv, carries all sorta germs, not good ter keep around," and with that, the woman targeted the rat and trod hard on it. Jack was crestfallen as he stared down at the limp tail poking out from under her large buckled boot.

"Ma'am?" He whispered to the woman holding him.

"C'mon, dear, just a rat. Now then, what are yer doin' out 'ere?"

"I like it out here."

"But it's cold! Can't have you sleepin' out 'ere, where are yer parents? They'll be worried."

"My Ma doesn't look after me very well. And I don't know where Pa is. He's been gone for a very long time. Ma said he's pushing up daises, but I don't know what that means. Has he gone away for a new job? A job as a farmer? I want to be a farmer some day."

The woman sighed with a look of pity on her face, she then straightened up and held Jack out at arms length.

"Yer know wot? I think you should stay with me."

Jack stared at her, unaware of what to say or feel.

"Okay," he squeaked out.

She smiles, to Jack and to herself. She holds the boy against her chest and he glares down at the floor behind her shoulder as she walks off. The rat lay sprawled on the floor, it's tail broken and blood around it's head. Jack sticks his thumb in his mouth and tries to think of something else, something nice. Before he knows it, the woman has taken him into a shop. The door shuts behind them with a _ting _of the bell. She sits him down on the workbench and for the first time he is able to look at her. The woman has an extremely white face, ghost-like. Maybe she is a ghost, he thinks to himself. Her auburn brown hair is tied up scrawly on the top of her head, tight curls springing out at all directions. Her black dress fit rather tight, squeezing into her stomach, pushing out half her chest.

"Now then, luv, what's yer name?"

"Jack Raftery."

"That's a lovely name. If I were ever to 'ave had a son, I woulda called him Jack, yer know."

Jack slowly nodded his head, smiling a little, pretending he understood what she was talking about. His legs dangled down and he waggled them back and forth.

"So then, I'm Mrs Lovett. Call me whatever yer like. I'll just go fetch yer a blanket, yer must be freezing!"

He nodded again and the woman disappeared into a room behind him. He breathed in, inhaling the smell of pastry, it felt like the best thing ever. Jack placed his hands down on the counter and gasped when he felt a sharp nick at his hand.

"Ouch!" He muttered as he inspected his hand, blood was oozing out of the cut between his thumb and index finger, the skin grating.

"Jack, are yer okay? Thought I heard somethin'.." Mrs Lovett mumbled as she came back from the room.

"Oh shoot! Stupid Nellie, leaving yer knife on the table where there's a bloomin' _child,_" She uttered to herself.

"Nellie."

"Yes, luv?"

"It's a pretty name.."

"Yes, yes, luv, I think the blood's getting to yer head," She rolled her brown eyes, "Lemme find something for tha' cut of yours."

She scurried away again and rummaged around in a cupboard. She leant down, searching every shelf. A heavy thump came from overhead and Jack looked up, his lips sitting in a confused frown.

"That'll just be the neighbours, rowdy buggers they are. Don't mind them," She mumbled as she tossed aside various items.

"Aha! Found me cloths," Mrs Lovett walked back over to where Jack sat, grinning widely, she took his hand and wrapped the cloth tightly around his fingers. She tucked the remaining material underneath and kissed his hand.

"All better," Jack smiled up at her. Mrs Lovett beamed back at him, and she could feel a sudden flush of maternal comfort, comfort which she had wanted to feel for so long. They could hear footsteps padding outside, Mrs Lovett sighed, a slight hint of concern could be seen in her pasty face. The door opened and a tall, troubled looking man stood in the doorway. His mouth curled and his eyes narrowed.

"What is _that_?"


	2. Chapter 2

His hair reminded Jack of a flash of moonlight in the night sky. He towered over Jack, hanging a dark cloud over the small boy, but he was not scared. His grim expression only confused the small boy.

"Well, Mista T, we have a new addition to the family!"

The man dropped a cloth to the table, patches of red stained the fabric. His brow narrowed further_._

"It...It's a child," He grumbled.

"Yes, Mista T, you clever sod. You not gonna say hello?"

"No."

"His name's Jack, poor thing has no parents, and I couldn't help meself, wot with me tender heart, y-"

"I said no, Mrs Lovett."

"Right you was, Mista T. Well he'll be sharing with me, if that'll comfort yer mind."

"Alright."

Mrs Lovett turned to Jack who was still sitting on the counter, "Don't worry 'bout him, he don't even talk to me, miserable mare," She moved closer to Jack, her voice fading to a whisper, "He had a child too once, yer know."

"I came to tell you the next batch has been delivered," The man growled.

"Blimey, who comes for a shave at this time of n-" She paused and gave a discreet nod and Jack stared up at her, his lips apart, baby teeth poking out.

"Aren't you just the cutest little thing. Wish you were me own," she whispered, clutching Jack close to her as she stared at the floor.

"Why don't you have children, Mrs Lovett?" He breathed out from the firm clasp she had wrapped around him.

"Never got round ter it I guess. Me poor Albert was gone before we got the chance."

"Gone?"

"Popped his clogs."

Jack nodded, again pretending he knew what she meant. He hadn't the slightest idea.

"Well enough chitter chatter, I bet yer starvin', how's about one of me lovely meat pies?"

"Yes please," he smiled and Mrs Lovett let go of him. He looked over at the strange man, he interested Jack, he had such an odd feel to him. As if darkness was following him, shadowing him in a gloomy dark haze, taking away all the light from him. Jack wondered if he could make him smile, but he knew not to push his luck.

"What's that man's name, Mrs Lovett?"

"Who? Him?" She jerked her chin in the direction of the strange man and Jack nodded.

"Tha's Mister Todd. Stay on the good side of him if I were you," She sighed and placed down her rolling pin, "I don't think he even has a good side," she mumbled to herself.

Mrs Lovett patted Jack's shoulder and left the room, opening a door with cobwebbed steps leading down. Jack lifted himself off the workbench, his small feet hitting the floor with a light thud. He walked over to the strange man, staring at him with curiosity.

"Hello Mister Todd," he whispered.

He continued glaring out the window, Jack looked him up and down. His hair sat in a scrawly, tangled mess. His eyes were small slits in a long ghostly face. They were black, empty, cold. His mouth a pale pink and pulled down at the edges. He wore a white shirt and grey waistcoat, a small cloth hanging out the breast pocket. Long dark pinstriped trousers with two gleaming razors tucked inside the belt.

"They all deserve to die, y'know lad," he mumbled, not taking his gaze from the window.

Jack's eyes widened a little and he nodded his head slightly, turning away from the strange man, he scurried away and sat on the bench.

"Pie's ready, enjoy!" Mrs Lovett called as she drifted into the room with a grubby baking tray in her arms. A small brown pie sat in the middle. It was burnt around the edges and the meat was spilling out. She set the tray down in front of Jack, he stared up at her and gulped.

"Don't look like that luv, it's gorgeous, best pies in London, that's what me customers say."

"Okay.." He whispered and poked the pie with a small dirty finger, his nail had been bitten down to the point of bleeding, a side of crusting fell away and the contents collapsed onto the tray. He picked up the pie, watching the slop fall out. Wrinkling his nose and closing his eyes, he brought it to his mouth and took a large bite. He didn't even begin to chew it, he stared at Mrs Lovett with a look of pleading.

"Go on luv, yer getting to the juicy bit!"

Closing his eyes again, he slowly started to chew the mush inside his mouth. His gag reflex was telling him to spit it out, but Mrs Lovett was telling him to swallow it down. He forced down a large gulp and the pie was gone.

"How was it?" Mrs Lovett encouraged.

"Delicious," He mumbled, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. His stomach was already making funny noises at him.

"I knew yer'd like it! Oh won't cha look at that, yer stomach's rumbling! Room for more, methinks.."

"No! No thank you, I'm full," Jack winced.

"Well ain't that a pity."

Jack looked over at the strange man and scratched his nose.

"Mrs Lovett, is Mister Todd your friend?"

"Of course he's me friend! We've been best buds for quite a while, 'aven't we, Mista T?" She flashed a cheerful grin at the man.

He grunted.

"Just a bit shy, he is. He's a barber, best around. Shaves right down ter the skin, not a speck of stubble, not that yer'd know anything about shaving. But you best leave him alone, doesn't like ter be disturbed when he's doin' his business upstairs."

"Can you teach me one day, Mister Todd?" Jack called over to where Todd stood, watching the passers-by outside.

He took his gaze from the window and started staring at something Jack could not see, he raised his brow and his eyes were more wary. As though he were thinking of a long distant memory.

"Perhaps."


	3. Chapter 3

"Now son, remember what I told you, don't wander off, and most certainly do not disturb Mista T, a'right?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jack chirped back in his angelic innocent tone.

"Oh you're a keeper," Mrs. Lovett whispered whilst she licked the palm of her hand and smoothed back Jack's hair. He stuck his nose up and stared at her.

"Wot? A lad like you has always gotta look his best!"

"Kay, you can go now."

"Okay, okay, take care luv!"

Mrs Lovett swept up a small red purse with gold fastenings around the edge. She blew Jack a kiss and slid through the door, it shut with the _ting _of a bell.

The young boy let out a sigh and looked around, chewing his bottom lip. He picked at the rough skin, making it bleed. Mrs. Lovett had dressed him up in smart trousers and a tiny waistcoat. She was repeatedly saying how a gorgeous little boy like himself should always be seen well dressed. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he got to his feet. Time to do a bit of exploring, he thought. He crept through to the backroom; he assumed it was meant to be some sort of living room. He couldn't help but notice how vile the green wallpaper was. Jack didn't find this room very interesting at all, so he left, thinking there was nothing there to please him. He proceeded through to the kitchen. A thick layer of dust was forming below the workbench, and Jack got down on his knees and peered underneath.

"Urgh…" He mumbled at the sight. It was like a cockroach graveyard.

He rose to his feet again, wiping his dusty hands against his trousers. He pulled open one of the drawers and lifted himself up onto his tiptoes to take a look inside. Two rolling pins, a dough cutter, a very sharp looking knife and half a dozen dead cockroaches, sprawled on their backs, their thin legs bent into askew angles.

The light thumping of footsteps could be heard directly above him. Mister Todd must be hard at work, he thought.

"Maybe he wants some help," Jack smiled to himself.

He shut the drawer and left the kitchen, making his way over to the door. One big stretch and he could reach the handle. He twisted it forcefully, his face flustering at the effort. He pulled it shut behind him and slowly made his way towards the room with the rotating barber's pole. Jack trudged up the wooden steps, his left hand grasped firmly at the rail. Moving over toward the door, Jack peered through the window, his nose smudged up against the glass. Mister Todd was seen at the vanity table, running his index finger up and down the razors in the elegantly engraved box.

Jack hesitated for a moment, before rapping at the glass with his knuckles. Mister Todd's graceful fingers stopped touching the razors, and he looked up, a fleeting glance of aggression danced through his worried eyes. He walked over to the door and flung it open.

"What are you doing here? Didn't Mrs. Lovett tell you not to come up here? Didn't she?" He grunted down at the young boy.

"I...I was just… I came by…to…to see if you would l-like any help."

"Your help is not needed. Goodbye," Mister Todd went to shut the door, but Jack put his hand out and pushed against it.

"Please?" He whispered.

Mister Todd raised his eyebrow as he stared down at the child, his top lip curled.

"Fine," He uttered as he released his grasp on the door. Jack made his way through to the room.


End file.
